


Looking to the Sky to Save Me

by runicmagitek



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Cultural Differences, First Meetings, Gen, Missions Gone Wrong, Pre-Canon, Sky Pirate Hijinks, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 04:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: She abandoned her home and so did he. Sometimes that's enough reason to rob a vault together.





	Looking to the Sky to Save Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveandthetruth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandthetruth/gifts).



She longed—ached, even—to explore the world before she ever possessed the words to express the sentiment. What good was it to learn of civilizations in cautionary tales or the occasional, dated scroll? How could she claim to live when she confined herself within the Wood?

The viera revered the solemn whispers meant for their ears alone, but Fran’s ears twitched for something else.

Past the lush greenery, architecture dared to surpass the clouds, rising higher than any tree. Technology she dreamed of whirred and whizzed until her ears thrummed. She held her breath and witnessed airships soaring above no different than flocks of birds who called the skies their home. Fran envied that freedom—to wander wherever the wind took her. It was enough incentive to join those who shared that outlook, albeit with questionable morals.

Fine by her. So long as the jobs remained intriguing, Fran found no qualms in calling herself a sky pirate.

Few acknowledged her when she entered a room, save for the usual, lewd stares. _Never seen a viera before?_ she mused. _A low standard for amusement, I suppose_. It didn’t make securing a partner easier. Why? Fran didn’t bother to ask; her time and energy were better spent elsewhere than on petty thoughts.

What gil she scrounged up from available jobs wasn’t enough to afford a real airship. The gods knew she worked on plenty of airships—even more skilled than some moogles or so the little mechanics told her—but they had yet to smile upon her. Sometimes it was better that way. Made life interesting.

 Especially when _he_ stumbled upon her.

More a boy than a man, despite what he insisted upon, but a hume all the same. Jewelry adorned his earlobes and fingers. No grease marred the vivid threads he donned—not yet. Fran swore silver gilded his tongue; even the humes she was accustomed to did _not_ swell with charisma like this one. A theatre troupe suited his tastes instead of the life of a notorious sky pirate.

“You and I,” he said one evening in the Balfonheim tavern, “should consider teaming up.”

Fran raised a delicate eyebrow. “ _We_?”

“But of course.”

“You dare mock me, hume?”

“I have a name, you know.”

“What good is a name when you can’t even call yourself a sky pirate?”

He curled his lower lip and nodded, as if in mild agreement with her vexation. “What I do know is that you and I are kindred spirits.”

Was this a joke? Red eyes scanned the tavern for any group snickering behind ale. Fran found nothing of the sort. This boy—this _Balthier_ —approached her by his free will. Curiosity and irritation twisted her stomach.

“You think that?” Fran asked.

Folding his arms, Balthier smirked, the subtle candlelight glinting in his earrings. “Both ran away from places claiming to be our homes, yes? Not exactly a common occurrence. Some may even dare to say fate brought us here.”

Fate. Yes, she recalled the hume ideology. All events happened for a reason or so they claimed. Even the sky pirates, with all their volition, still conjured fate to their side when the tides turned against them. Fran loathed it. No one treated her like a puppet. Her life was hers to live and she’d sooner snap those strings loose if it meant to escape fate.

That warranted her to flip over the lone table she sat at and ignore his request. But she didn’t. She focused on his initial words and locked eyes with him. _What home did you discard, hume?_ she wondered. _No regret plagues your heart, yes? Then perhaps you speak truth—perhaps we are kindred spirits._

She refused to allow him to believe that was why she accepted his ridiculous offer; it was in the promise of a set of wings to call their own. The Strahl was of Archadian design, if memory served her right. The foundations and navigation system possessed eccentric nuances only an Empire thriving with science basked in. High maintenance, yet efficient. Robust, yet speedy.

Fran skimmed fingertips along the control panel—how she longed for this day, to spread her wings and join the birds she admired. That’s what it meant to be a sky pirate. With the endless heavens seducing them, all that remained were the countless treasures hidden from view, waiting for _them_.

“So long as we don’t flirt with the Archadian border,” Balthier muttered, “I’m game for wherever you desire to travel to.”

 _Curious. The boy with the Archadian airship fears its origins_.

She didn’t question him for he didn’t question why a viera was lounging in a seaport, of all places. It was better that way.

One Empire was off limits, but the other stayed fair game. And Fran wanted to play.

 

* * *

 

Rozarria mirrored its rival in grandeur and nothing else. The voluptuous architecture detailed structures akin to organic life; the rounded arches, stucco walls, and asymmetrical patterns all _breathed_. Airships roamed the skies, branded with military insignias. Armored infantry patrolled the bustling streets in search for anything straying from martial law.

Fran watched those oblivious soldiers from her high perch within a dark alcove. If only they bothered to stretch their necks and glance up, but she preyed on their naivety. All the better to score a hefty prize.

Well, that was what Balthier claimed, anyways. While he slipped into the depths of the treasury, she loomed beside gargoyles and waited. Their first job together and _he_ insisted that _she_ was to stay watch. For _what_? To count the chocobo-shaped clouds drifting away?

“ _A viera mechanic,_ ” Balthier had mused out loud before they reached Rozarria. “ _Quite a contradiction if I_ _’ve ever heard one._ ”

“ _Makes no difference if I am viera or hume,_ ” she quipped. “ _The gears care not for who handles them if one treats them well_.”

Balthier’s cackle continued to ring in her ears as she recalled the memory. “ _True enough. Certainly makes no difference to me. I_ _’m curious to see this hoverbike of yours in action._ ”

“ _Is that all? You need only to ask._ ”

“ _I_ _’m afraid not, but if it pleases the gods, then perhaps we shall have ourselves more than a leisure ride._ ”

Fran huffed. “ _The gods need not grant me permission; I never required it._ ”

It was that wide, devious grin of his that sent shivers down her spine. “ _Truer words have never been spoken, Fran_.”

She hitched her breath. No matter how much she twitched her ears, the vibrations of those words remained, even as she stood vigilant over Rozarria.

Crimson rays bathed the metropolis, reflecting off the glass embedded in the mosaic street tiles like a kaleidoscope. Fran leaned into her hoverbike, a loose fist holding her face up. The hume city was no different from the Wood she spent her childhood days in. Instead of serene whispers, an ambiance of mechanical whirrs and pedestrian murmurs tickled her ears. She discerned no complexity in those sounds, no hidden truths meant for viera. Yet it calmed her all the same. That was what it meant to be at home. Not nestled in secluded forests, but lost in a sea of people and technology. She stood in awe of every scientific feat found nowhere but the heart of a city. She longed to learn the secrets immersed in gears and wires and bolts. Wasn’t that what it meant to be a viera? Did it matter if she listened to machines instead of the Wood?

Glass shattered. Her ears perked up. She hitched her breath, jolted to her feet, and whipped around. Shards of stained glass fell from above like snow. In the fall was a familiar face, clutching a stuffed burlap sack. Fran rolled her eyes and hissed out an arcane chant. The glass plummeted while Balthier floated to firm ground.

Sucking in trembling breaths, Balthier managed to chuckle. “Not my finest exit strategy.”

“This,” Fran said, “was _not_ a part of the plan.”

“No?” He tilted his head and lift the sack. “Swipe the stash and leave unnoticed. _That_ was the plan.”

“You spoke nothing of broken windows.”

“Simply improvising. Even you must know of such a tactic, Fran.”

She never humored him with a word.

“Well then.” Balthier visibly swallowed. “This is the part where we—”

Sirens blared from within the treasury. Airships in the distance lit up with an array of spotlights. Cries below came from none other than the military patrols sniffing out unlawful activity.

Fran perched a fist upon her cocked hip. “You were saying?”

“Improvising,” he repeated, scurrying towards the hoverbike. “How good are you at disobeying traffic regulations?”

“As good as you are at calling attention to yourself.”

Balthier smirked while securing their prize into the hoverbike’s compartment. “Excellent. I have the utmost faith in you, Fran.”

“Not sure if the sentiment is mutual.”

“Well, they weren’t going to let me walk out the front door with it.”

“Suppose you allow me to secure an exit strategy the next time we poke our noses where they don’t belong?”

Balthier paused. She never understood the hume expression of one smiling with their eyes until she locked gazes with him right there. “ _We_? Don’t jest with me now, Fran.”

“Hardly the time to do so, is it not?”

“Are you suggesting we have a repeat venture?”

“I’m suggesting you still your tongue and let me do my share of the job.”

Without another word, Balthier raised both brows and extended his arms in surrender. Fran mounted her hoverbike, flipping switches until the engine roared to life. Balthier lounged behind her like a king surrounded by riches, albeit with anxiety riddling his features. Fran chuckled; she found little use for the passenger seat until now.

A flick of her wrist and the hoverbike bolted off its perch. They glided to another rooftop with ease. By the third jump, authorities took note of the vehicle paving its own road from above. Too late; Fran’s drastic head start left those idiots running in circles.

She relished the wind whipping past her face. The engine’s vibrations enticed her to race faster. Lampposts flickered to life from below as dusk swallowed the Rozarrian Empire whole. She retraced the path back to the Strahl, secured outside the borders. Half an hour and they’d be soaring off and basking in their first victory together.

“I could get used to this.”

Fran almost swerved into a wall. A warm breath teased her ear. She swiveled it back in search for more.

“Used to what?” she asked, hoping her voice reached those poor hume ears. How could they live with discerning so little?

There was no mistaking that low purr or that subtle palm sinking into her shoulder. “Us. Working together. It’s like I said, Fran; you and I are one and the same. What do you think?”

Many thoughts passed her mind, though few, if any, ever left her lips. It forever vexed her how some humes gushed like waterfalls until their tongues dried up. Why waste precious air unless it was worth her time?

It wasn’t until they returned to the Strahl without a word, operating in unison like mirror images, until they passed through billows of clouds and nestled with the stars in the night sky. Fran released a breath she didn’t know she held. A slight smile tugged at her stern lips.

“I believe,” she said, “this is the start of something great.”


End file.
